CRAZY EIGHT
No one knew
When she arrived
Or when she'd disappear
She would just drift in with the wind
Ginned up
Like she'd be hitting
All the ritzy joints in town
And never without her bête noire, "Kitty"
A crazy eight midnight black Mercury Coupe
They were inseparable
A couple of cats on the prowl
In the tall grass
She sure was some kinda dame
A real pearl
You could count yourself lucky
If you bumped into her
But you know the thing about luck ...
Each of the man-made public disruptions,
Experts say is an unforeseen crisis;
But since they profit from planned destructions,
I am begging you, please don’t go cry sis.
They pre-plan cruel war in people’s back yards,
Wrecking mayhem with killer devices.
Though news says it appeared out of the blue,
It’s their plan all along, so don’t cry sis.
And since war always spurs on inflation,
That is where central bank’s paradise is.
Their fiat money increases with death;
So who’s the killers? For them don’t cry sis.
If the U. S. dollar’s on its last leg,
Then falling empire’s use many vises.
Like foresaid war, division, chaos, hate,
If we learn their ways, there’s less need to cry sis.
And since lately there’s high interest rates,
Countries can’t afford paying debt prices.
So they’ll fool us to fight their dirty wars,
But they’re not worth the fight, so don’t cry sis.
So if we read and learn from history,
And don’t show up for their ginned-up crisis,
We’ll remember we’re one big family;
And that joy, is the reason to cry sis.
Romanticism descends an unbridled staircase
bittersweet; stripped bare and unleashed
passion in supple nudity
sashays down my spine
a ginned up shimmy and sway yearn
tingling every naked nerve with a sudden surge
of electric longing and unmasked pulses of pang and pleasure
Susan Ashley
October 11, 2019
*romanticism: romantic spirit or tendency*
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